Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 187 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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4. Fred Halyard, the Life me = ee el “TL should imagine so,” said Mr. Darlington. ‘* Everybody was ina stew in a minute. There weren't as many folks here in them days as now, for Beach City wasn’t a summering place then. But there was enough of us Jerseymen to be anxious. Well, that gun kept poundin’, ‘way out to sea at fust, but gettin’ closer. And it were so dark you couldn’t have seen lightnin’, let alone a ship. The pees doomed critter fought hard for her life. And was a as stirred up as if I'd been aboard her my- self. D've been in sich perdicaments, more than once.” ‘*T have no doubt of that,”’ confessed Mr. Darling- ton, as the narrator paused. ‘Yes, nore than twice. But this ain’t my own varn now. Well, she fought the storm for two mor- tal hours; but the gun-shots come closer and closer; and when daylight lit up the east we caught a xlimpse of her.” ‘*Near the beach?”’ asked Rose, in deep interest. “She didn’t look a hand’s-breadth off. It was a fair sized three-master, English rigged, though she hardly spread a rag of sail. Jist one look settled ner hash. She hadn’t as much chance for life as a butterfly in a hurricane. And as for launching a lifeboat, you mought as well have tried to go to sea ina tub. She struck almost the fust minute we spied her.” ** And were they all lost?”’ ““That’s what [ am comin’ to. They launched their boats; but no boat ever lived in sich a sea. Chey stove like pipe-stems. And it was hardly ten minutes afore the ship broke amidships. I’d have tiked then to be twenty miles away, for it was a sor- rowful business to have to stand there with your hands tied and see sich a noble craft go to pieces, and so many living souls sink to Davy ones’s lock- er. But there weren't no help for it.’ **But they were not all lost?’ asked Rose, with tearsin hereyes. ‘‘Don’t say they were all lost.” ‘* All but two,”’ he replied, solemnly. ‘“‘One wasa sailor, who was dragged, half-dead, from the surf. And he was so battered by the waves that it pound- ed all the senses out of him. When he come to every speck of his memory was gone. And we've never knowed from that day to this the name of that ship, oe yee ocean didn’t leave a thing that she could told by.”’ ‘But there were two saved, you say. Who was the other?” ‘That was my treasure,” the old man quietly re- plied. ‘‘The waves tossed it nearly ashore—some- thing like a baby’s cradle. It was just suckin’ it back ag’in when | tumbled into the surf like a boy. You mought have s’posed that I didn’t knownothin’ about water the way I risked myself. And allfor a baby’s cradle.’ ‘You hard-hearted old fellow,’ said Rose, press- ng his hand sag ‘I dunno how it was. If it’d been a man I don’t ‘lieve ’'d had the courage. Howsomever, in I jumped and bbed the cradle. And Jack Sprat, one of our neighbors here, grabbed me. And some- body grabbed Jack Sprat. Andif they hadn't pull- ed hard I wouldn’t have been about to tell you this yarn to-day.”’ ‘*But you saved the cradle? And there was some- thing in it?’’ cried Rose, breathlessly. — “The prettiest boy baby that ever you sot eyes on. And he’s alive to-day, Heaven be thanked, and there ain’t his equal in all the Jarseys. And that’s what the wreck brought to old Tom Halyard.”’ ‘‘But you never found out whose child he was?” asked Mr. Darlington, with a look of peculiar in- aren ‘Was there no name, or nothing to know 1im by?’ “Hardly a perk The sea had ay the cradle clean. And the baby had only one little garment on, that was fine enough to show that it was a gen- tleman’s child. But, not a speck of a name. I’ve zot the cradle and the garment yet.”’ “And will you let me see them?” asked Mr. Darlington, with what seemed an uncalled-for anx- iety. ‘Sartain,” responded the old sailor, with some surprise at Mr. Darlington’s excited look. ‘“*But you aor that the boy is living yet,’’ demand- ed Rose. ‘Itisn’t—"’ “Yes, itis. It is Fred Halyard—my own son b adoption from the sea, and the nattiest, handsomest, sharpest, and best-hearted boy that ever knotted a rope or faced a nor’wester.”’ And it’s a mug ty bad business, old Tom,” spoke a voice behind him. ‘* What's that?” cried the old man, sharply turn- ing, me Only that Fred’s among the missing,” returned the speaker, a stalwart young man, dressed in a waterman’sgarb. ‘‘ We gave chase last night to a boat-load of smugglers, and took Fred as helmsman. The hounds flung us in the ecenene Fred jumped ashore to follow them afoot—and—” ‘And what?” cried the old man, apings ne and seizing him by the collar. ‘‘Don’t say that any barm’s come to the boy, or I'll throttle ye!”’ There was an agony in the old sailor’s look, and a deep intensity of tone, that showed he meant this for no idle threat. ‘* We lost him, that was all. We hunted him for an hour, but he was not to be found. And now here’s daylight and no Fred. I’m afeared the con- founded smugglers have gobbled him up.”’ ‘‘ And what are you standing here for?”’ cried old Tom, sending the man s ering away with a thrust of his vigorousarm. ‘ y ain’t you out in the inlet arter ? If he’s harmed I won’t forget you soon. Come—there ain't no time to stand here driveling.” The oid man darted away with the speed of a racer, followed by the coast-guard boatman, leaving oe ——————— -—- Mr. Darlington and his daughter scarcely less excit- ed and surprised. CHAPTER IV. THE MILKMAN’S PRIZE. Rose DARLINGTON and her father walked slowly together up the beach, after the hasty departure of old Tom Halyard. “It will be too dreadful if anything serious has ag Svea she said, with clasped hands. ‘‘ After hi ing saved from the sea, too, in such a way; and no one to know anything about him, except that he is a gentleman’s child. And the only person who was saved with him to have quite lost his memory. What makes you look so strange, papa’ ** Why, did I look strange?” asked Mr. Darlington, with a slight start. ‘“‘I must have been deeply in- terested in your romance, indeed. That sailor may have recovered his memory!”’ This was said in an aside, as if he had forgotten his daughter’s presence. ; ‘*Oh! and you are going to seek him, and find out allabout Fred mee fh Now, that’s a dear, good papa! lam so glad of that!”’ “TI do not know but that old Tom has the best right to him, even if his real father could be found,”’ mused Mr. Darlington. “But he has to live among rough people, and hunt smugglers, and all that. ho are these smug- glers, ag I did not know that there was any smuggling done along here.”’ ** The tom-House authorities have been sus- icious of this coast for some time,’’ replied her fa- her. ‘‘ It is so easy to send a boat-load of silks or of cigars ashore in these complicated inlets. An officer has been sent down here, and has engaged: boat’s crew of the men of the life-saving service, who are not on duty in the summer.” ** Are those the men whom I have seen at the red house below the city?”’ “Yes. That is the life-saving station.” Meanwhile old Tom and his companion had reach- ed the causeway leading across the marsh. A wagon here came briskly along, whose high tin cans show- ed that it belonged to a vender of milk. The milk- man, a plain-featured countryman, stopped his horse as t oy RppEonppet. **Hallo! old Tom!’ he ejaculated. ‘‘In a hurry ra — this mornin’? Couldn’t wait tillI got inter wn?”’ “Tam not after you,’ cried the old man, hastily, as he ran on. “Then you're arter somethin’ in a desp’rate hur- ry. Now jest pull up and tell me what’s lost. Meb- be I can help you a trifle.”’ ** Have you seen anything in the marsh?’’ demand- ed old Tom, breathlessly. “I’ve seen many a thing, from a bullfrog to a bit- tern,” returned the count an. ‘‘And I guesses I know what you want. It’s the boy you're racing after, ain’t it now?”’ ‘*Sartain itis. You’ve seen him? Where is he?”’ The old man’s voice had all the impetuosity of outh. me If you holler so you'll wake the lad. You'll find him back herein the wagon. And, bless his honest face, he’s fast asleep. on’t rouse him,” he con- tinued, as old Tom hastil “spies J up onto the shaft. “T calkerlate the lad’s jest tuckered out, and we'd best let him have his nap through.” “But, where did you find him? Tell me the whole story!’ exclaimed the father, after a long, loving look at the caln ly-sleeping face in the wagon. ‘‘He is drenched with water.” ‘* Now see here, old Tom, I’ll catch rats from _my customers if I keep them waitin’ for the milk. You jest walk alongside, and I'll tell you all I know; which ain’t much.” He proceeded to tell how, while dri along the causeway, he had heard a loud hallo, and seen a tall figure standing on the bank of the inlet that border- the road. The next moment this person had fallen into the water, and seemed to be making a Capperers struggle to swim across. * The rcreature sunk more than once,’ con- tinued the milkman. ‘‘SolI jest jumped out of the wagon, and when he riz ag’in I had him by the col- lar quick as a flash, and out on the bank. Bless your eyes, it wasn’t a spark of wonder he couldn’t swim, fer he was blinded by a big cloth, and had his hands tied behind him. t wouldn’t have saved him if Tony Lumkin hadn't been on hand,”’ They had now gained the beach, where they met Mr. Darlington and his daughter, who stood waiting in intense e tancy. “Is he safe? Have you found him?” demanded Rose, too deeply excited to wait for some of the others to mpeak. The reply came from an or ee quarter. A voice sounded from the rear of the wagon: “Safe! Iguessso. Let me out, Tony.” And a tall, lithe figure ye lightly from the ve- hicle. They hardly knew at first, with the wet hair streaming down over his face. His clothes were covered with mud, with which his face was also thickly streaked. ““T am all right, father,” he cried, warmly clasp- ing the old man’shand. ‘‘ And whom have we here? 1 Mr. Darlington and Miss Rose. I hope you will excuse my looks. I have had a hard night of it. But that will never do,”’ he continued, as he put his hand to his face, aud withdrew it covered with mud. “*I must make myself more presentable.” He turned as he spoke, and in a minute had leaped into the surf, which was thunde away not twen- ty feet from where hey stood. Itdid not take old ocean long to make *s toilet. He dashed the wet hair from his eyes, and came back streaming, but with the fresh color in his cheeks, and the clear Boat Boy. SP Ame light in his glance, which added so much to his youthful beauty. ‘“*You have had a serious time of it, Fred,’ re- marked Mr. Darlington. ‘* Yes,’’ returned the boy, indifferently. folks might not likeit.”’ ‘*See here, Fred Halyard,” exclaimed the old man, whose excitement had to find ventin some di- rection, ‘‘don’t you go pres innocent in that ras. say, provokin’ way. don’t want no puttin’ on a a) _ a “Some Rose looked as if she indorsed Mr. Halyard’s opin- ion, and Fred felt somewhat abashed, as he caught the expression of her speaking eye. ‘** Of course I am ready to tell all I know," he re- lied. ‘But it is a long story, and I am not too resh. Hadn’t we best go up to the house?" ‘**Sartain! sartain!’’ and the old man seized Fred's arm. ‘*Poor’boy! [I’m afeared you've had a siege. Come on, folks; we’ll jest step up and take cheers, and hear what the lad has to say in comfort.” They were now joined by Mr. Proctor, the officer of the customs, who had but lately heard of the pre- ceding night’s adventure, and was anxious to learn the boy’s story. ‘ And Fred gave it to them, in all its details. He found it not unpleasant to be lionized, and made the most of the exciting story of his adventures, ‘‘But have you any idea where the locality is?” asked Mr. Proctor. ‘‘Can we trace the hiding-place of the smugglers?’’ ‘**{ have an idea,” replied Fred. ‘“*Good for you, boy. Where is the place?” “*T’ll tell you when I find out,’’ was the quiet an- swer. “I’ve got to work my traverse first. If it’s all right we’ve got them. If it’s all wrong we ain't. And that’s all ve got to say now.”’ And he meant it, for no questioning could bring anything further from him or the subject. CHAPTER V. RESCUED FROM THE SEA. Apsout ten o’clock the next morning Fred Halyard was walking briskly through one of the side streets of the town. He was dressed in a suit of blue flan- nel, which would answer very well for a bathing- dress, and looked asif it had done duty in that di- rection already. Turning a corner he found himself suddenly face to face with Rose Darlington. She wasaccompanied by a young he ssa! a well-dressed, good-looking, but supercilious personage, whose eyes fixed them- selves on Fred with the look that an ear] might give to a herdsman. ‘*Mr. Halyard!”’ exclaimed Rose, stopping in her walk. “Then you have entirely recovered? I am glad to see that.’’ “TIT thank you for your interest,’ he replied. ‘‘T am none the worse for my adventure.” ‘Excuse me, Miss Darlington,” interposed the outh beside her, who had stood impatiently twirl- ng hiscane. “ Had we not better go on? @ will be looked for.” ‘*T have no objection to be looked for,” answered Rose, with curling lip. ‘‘Good-day, Mr. Halyard, and do avoid any more such dangers.” ‘I shall do my best,” responded Fred. ‘Only I hope they will avoid me. I am notresponsible for myself in such cases.” e caught the eye of Rose’s gentleman friend as he spoke. It was fixed upon him with an wv Seng which Fred did not relish. A quick gleam shot into his eyes, and he flashed a glance of defiance on that young gentleman, which made him lower his gree Fred walked on, with a parting bow to his fair friend, but with a hightened color. ‘ ‘“Who is that fellow?” demanded the supercilions young man, with a strong emphasis on the “ fellow.” ‘““One of my friends,’’ was the quiet, but decided response. ‘Not a very creditable friend. He might pass for a fisherman's apprentice.”’ ““He might be, for all I would care,” retorted Rose, with spirit. ‘‘Iam much more interested in what the man is, than in what his dusiness is.” ‘Now, thatis all very well. But it will not wash, you know. Such fellows are no acquaintances for ‘“‘T hardly understand your allusion to the wash- tub,’’ rejoined Rose, in a tone of scorn. “I fear! have not been properly educated in slang. Those Th aoe ae a whom I associate are not in the babit of n , ‘*But—you know—” faltered the young man, some- what abashed. ‘ But, who és this chap?” “T think you would hardly care to know,”’ she re- plied. ‘If you do, I will introduce you the next time we meet. For the present, suppose we change the subject.”’ The storm was , but the clouds yet hung on the horizon of their faces, as they walked onward. Meanwhile, Fred was entertaining no better opin- a oth sheep | young gentleman, than the latter oO . “‘T wonder which of the royal families he is de- scended from?’ he asked himself. “I hope he will ak clear = me, for I have not a mite of respect for blue blood.” We will not follow Fred foot by foot. He was in search of the spot in the marsh at which the boat- men had left him. He finally discovered it, tracing back his own tracks through the mud. ‘‘Here’s the boat-hook, orI don’t know my own handwriting!"’ he exclaimed, looking at a long de- pression in the soft soil. “Now, for my mile- bh) He had brought a long stick in his hand, which he forced into the mud, leaving several feet of its length ng the distant shore of the mainland ran @ | OOO) Comic “S (E(0)